Then she led the way downstairs.  There were enough members of the immediate family to pack the front rooms of the house, the neighbours filled the dining room and dooryard.  The church choir sang a hymn in front of the house, the minister stood on the front steps and read a chapter, and told where Mr. Bates had been born, married, the size of his family and possessions, said he was a good father, an honest neighbour, and very sensibly left his future with his God.  Then the choir sang again and all started to their conveyances.  As the breaking up began outside, Mrs. Bates arose and stepped to the foot of the casket.  She steadied herself by it and said:  “Some time back, I promised Pa that if he went before I did, at this time in his funeral ceremony I would set his black tin box on the foot of his coffin and unlock before all of you, and in the order in which they lay, beginning with Adam, Jr., hand each of you boys the deed Pa had made you for the land you live on.  You all know what happened.  None of you know just how.  It wouldn’t bring the deeds back if you did.  They’re gone.  But I want you boys to follow your father to his grave with nothing in your hearts against him.  He was all for the men.  I don’t ever want to hear any of you criticize him about this, or me, either.  He did his best to make you upstanding men in your community, his one failing being that he liked being an upstanding man himself so well that he carried it too far; but his intentions was the best.  As for me, I’d no idea how sick he was, and nobody else did.  I minded him just like all the rest of you always did; the boys especially.  From the church I want all of you to go home until to-morrow morning, and then I want my sons and daughters by birth only, to come here, and we’ll talk things over, quietly, quietly, mind you; and decide what to do.  Katie, will you come with me?”

It was not quite a tearless funeral.  Some of the daughters-in-law wept from nervous excitement; and some of the little children cried with fear, but there were no tears from the wife of Adam Bates, or his sons and daughters.  And when he was left to the mercies of time, all of them followed Mrs. Bates’ orders, except Nancy Ellen and Robert, who stopped to help Kate with the dinner.  Kate slipped into her second dress and went to work.  Mrs. Bates untied her bonnet strings and unfastened her dress neck as they started home.  She unbuttoned her waist going up the back walk and pulled it off at the door.

“Well, if I ever put that thing on in July again,” she said, “you can use my head for a knock-maul.  Nancy Ellen, can’t you stop at a store as you come out in the morning and get the goods, and you girls run me up a dress that is nice enough to go out in, and not so hot it starts me burning before my time?”

“Of course I can,” said Nancy Ellen.  “About what do you want to pay, Mother?”